


Once You Go Through Hell, Everything Else Feels Like Heaven

by Perpetualstranger



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: After Mission, Aftermath, Angst, Bad Flirting, Blood, Cuddling, F/M, Heavily Implied Mentions of Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Nondescriptive, Panic Attacks, Serious Injuries, Super Comfort, medical treatment, puking, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perpetualstranger/pseuds/Perpetualstranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is found by Bruce to be raiding his medicine cabinet after she returns from a brutal mission with serious injuries. Trigger Warning: Vague mentions of rape, panic attack, blood and serious injuries...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once You Go Through Hell, Everything Else Feels Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you read the tags. Trigger Warning. Hopefully not as gruesome as I may have let on. Despite all that, it's supposed to be fluffy...Well as fluffy as I can get. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome.
> 
> I don't own anything.

Bruce stumbled into the lab to find Natasha rifling through his drawers. "Um, Natasha?" She whipped her head to the sound of her name and dropped whatever orange prescription vial was in her hand. "Doctor." She breathed out, placing a bloody hand on her unsteady chest. Bruce pursed his lips and looked to the floor to see trickles of blood leading to where Natasha stood, slightly hunched as if she couldn't support her own weight. "What is the meaning of this? Who did this to you?" He asked quickly. So many questions were on his mind, but he could see she was flustered and her wounds were fresh. Even when bleeding out and suffering from brain damage, she still had her wit. "I didn't have the chance to ask for his name when he was throwing me up against the wall." Bruce remained calm, shaking his head of any thoughts of his poor mother, and gestured to the examination table. "Please, sit." He cleared his throat and watched as she struggled to carry out the simple task. Bruce eyed her warily before leaving to retrieve his sphygmomanometer. Natasha sat on the metal surface, arms shaking as they propped her up and legs tucked to her chest. He proceeded to check her blood pressure, careful of a gash on her arm. "Breathe in and out for me please." He placed a hand on her back to help support her. When she did, it was interrupted by a deep cough. When she wiped her mouth, there was blood. To top it off, her blood pressure was extremely low.

Bruce noticed something wet when his hand rubbed her back. He looked to see Natasha's white blouse was damp with blood and sweat, clinging to her body. There was also a tear in her black slacks inside her upper thigh which was damp as well. "I need to stop the bleeding before I run anymore tests." He removed the band from her arm and gathered some bandages and antiseptic alcohol, setting them down in front of her. "Please take your uh, clothes off." His lips tightened into a polite frown as he waited for her to comply. She faltered for a moment, a sense of doubt flashed in her wide eyes making her appear so vulnerable. A word Bruce never thought he would use to describe Natasha. "It's okay, I don't bite." He added with a weary smile. She hid her display of insecurity behind a distracting comment. "That's a shame." Natasha purred as she began to unbutton her shirt. Bruce blushed and looked away, rubbing his cheeks anxiously. He shouldn't be thinking about her in such a manner considering her state. "Ms. Romanov, please. Now is not the time." When he slowly looked back up, her shirt was off and chucked to the floor. But she frowning at him, her full lips pale and trembling.

"Well, if you don't patch me up, there won't be any other time." Natasha muttered softly, looking at him through her eyelashes. Bruce nodded quickly and began apply the bandages and gauze. She hissed quietly when he applied the alcohol to a deep wound. He could tell that her energy was depleting and the only reason she was still remaining in a sitting position was because of her pride. "Why don't you lie down? I have all the wounds on your back treated." Natasha huffed quietly and gave him a small smirk. "Because I don't want to die lying down." Bruce jokingly rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he eased her down onto the cold surface. As much as he tried to hide it, Bruce felt uneasy with how flippant Natasha was with death. She was so accustomed to the concept that it made him wonder how many times had she been in this situation before and not known about it. How many times did she bleed and tremble with no one to help her? "You're not going to do that." His face scrunched in determination and worry. "Not today." Bruce muttered lowly, more to himself. His mind became lost in thought, hands absently gripping at the edge of the table. "Bruce?" Natasha stared at him patiently, propped on her elbows so she could see him. "It's okay, I'm fine." He rested his hand on her bare shoulder and eased her back down.

"Okay, all that's left are your leg injuries. I will have an actual doctor further assess your potential brain damage." Bruce's fingers weaved into Natasha's soft locks of hair, cradling her head as he felt the small lump that had formed. He smirked at her in a reassuring manner despite the grave look on her face. He ignored the way she immediately tensed up, hoping it wasn't something he did. His hand moved to unbutton her soggy, dirty trousers when Natasha gripped his wrist tightly. "I can handle that one Doctor." Bruce frowned at the thought she didn't trust him, not intending or aware of the fact the puppy dog face worked on her. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit Bruce noted and kept in the back of his cluttered mind, and eyed him up and down. "Okay." She breathed out, spreading legs and lifting her hips off the table so he could peel them off. When they were down to her knees, he realized why she was so wary. There were purple bruises festering in her inner thighs, and scratch marks on the back and sides of them. Her underwear was stained with blood, the once cream colored lace turned completely red. Bruce's fingers hesitated before tracing the bruises which made Natasha shiver softly. He stepped back and placed a hand over his mouth.

"Oh god. Oh goodness." Bruce muttered, his eyes wide searching for an answer he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Natasha coughed and cleared her throat, once again wiping blood off her lips. "I went to a gas station and used some cheap toilet paper to try and stop the bleeding." She reached in her underwear and pulled out a sopping wet wad of toilet paper and dropped it in a nearby bed pan which made him cringe. "Do you uh, want to tell me what happened?" His voice was gentle, along with a heavy hand comfortingly rubbing her thigh. His soft hand was such a foreign contrast to how she was handled not to long ago. Fists clenching, sweat dripping, throat tightening, fingers clawing- Despite his attempts, she still felt the anxiety rush over her like tiny bugs crawling all over her skin. "I-uh. I had just completed my mission and was taking a short cut through Chinatown where a car was uh, waiting and I-I-" Natasha arched her back in pain. Her muscles contracting violently and eyes wide and empty staring at the ceiling, pupils dilated. She let out a shaky breath and curled her fingers into a fist. "Natasha, what's going on?" Her breathing became erratic again as silent tears spilled out of her eyes.

"Please." Natasha whimpered and blindly reached out for any part of Bruce she could reach in the haze. He clutched her firmly, gathering her into his arms. "What did they do to you?" He whispered into her ear, fully aware that he wouldn't receive a response in her state. Her head was buried into the crook of his neck and her arms tightened around his shoulders. He could feel warm tears drop onto his neck and dampen his lab coat. "I thought all my training would stop this from happening." She hissed, teeth gritted in an attempt to stop a sob from escaping. "Stop what?" Bruce pulled Natasha away to see her face contorted with so many emotions that flickered away. The calloused pad of his thumb brushed against her cheek and he noticed pale beads of sweat form in her hairline and coat her seemingly translucent skin. "Feeling helpless." She choked out quietly, lips pouted and eyes locked on his as an anchor. Before Bruce could respond, Natasha lurched forward and threw up in the bed pan. Her stomach sucked in with every action, whole body trembling and tightening. All Bruce could do was gather her hair out of the way and rub her back, the heel of his hand kneading her shoulder blade to relieve the pressure.

When she was finished, Natasha slowly lifted her head to look back at Bruce. The dark circles under her eyes glistened with involuntary tears. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Bruce's eyes frantically drank her in, examining her state of complete pain and vulnerability. It scared the hell out of him, more so than one of her trademark death glares. (Bruce didn't think much things were scarier than that). "You're helpless?" Bruce huffed nervously and motioned towards her. "How do you think I feel, sitting here watching you like this, not knowing what to do with you?" Natasha let herself fall back on the metal table, and groaned at the impact of her tired body hitting the hard, metal surface. "You could start by getting me something that will hopefully put me to sleep for a _very_ long time." She rolled her head against the flat surface, nodding her head. "Like some good vodka. None of that weak crap either." She pointed a limp finger in his general direction, eyes still unfocused.

"How about some Phenergan? That'll put you to sleep and settle your stomach." Bruce prompted her assuringly, fingers gripping absentmindedly to a pen. Natasha nodded and watched as he left to the medicine cabinet to retrieve a vial. "You made quite a mess." Referring to the once organized rows of pill bottles before she raided the cabinet. He smiled and handed her a small pill. "That's an understatement." Natasha replied evenly, referring to all the blood on the floor and wounds on her body. She threw her head back and tossed pill in her mouth, swallowing it without any water. Natasha laid back down and rubbed her nose before turning her back to him. "Will it help me forget?" Bruce sighed for many reasons at that moment. He sighed because of her brittle voice. The lacerations on her back that faced him. How helpless he felt watching her, like the many times he watched his weary mother. How her hair fell in damp clumps around her tender shoulders. And honestly, he didn't feel worthy of being allowed Natasha's trust to see her in this condition. Bruce removed his glasses and rubbed the irritated flesh of the bridge of his nose. He slowly circled around to the other side of the examination table to face her, his heels clacking against the stained white tile. He pulled a low seated swivel chair so he was at level with her.

"Natasha?" She closed her eyes tightly at her name being spoken so softly. She wasn't used to it being spoke with such affection, and in a way it scared her. Bruce cleared his itchy throat. "This might seem cheesy, but I think you should know something my mother told me when I was young and angry." He scoffed and rolled his eyes at his own words. "Well, I still am angry. I just have more gray hairs to account for." When Natasha chuckled, tears spilled out her closed eyes and Bruce laid a hand on her cheek. "If you don't remember the bad times, you won't know how to enjoy the good ones." He swept a stray lock off her cheek to join the others and waited patiently for some response. His mother was a rather personal subject, and bringing her up somewhat leveled out how much Natasha bared of herself to him. "You're right." She opened her irritated eyes to see a bemused Bruce. "That was cheesy." She took his hand off her face, gathering it in her own before pressing soft kisses to the tender flesh. Natasha would never admit it, but she chose one aspect she loved about each of the Avengers, and Bruce's hands were what she chose for him. "I should be the one kissing you." He commented with one of his trademark, indecisive smiles. Natasha chuckled against the palm of his hand. He could feel her soft breath against it, the soft vibration of the sound reverberating against it, and sighed quietly in relief.

Natasha let go of Bruce's hand and he sheepishly gathered them together in his lap. "You should be helping me to a more comfortable place to sleep, like that armchair over there." She nudged her chin at the chair sitting in the corner where he would occasionally read medical journals. "Not that I haven't managed in worse situations." She added, speaking more to herself. "I still have some more tests to run." Bruce argued, pulling out a small flashlight from his coat pocket and shining it in Natasha's eyes. She cringed and lightly swatted him away. "My pupils are functioning fine, I just want to go to sleep." She was correct, they reduced in size which meant she passed the test. The little victory was enough to tie him over till the morning where he would continue. "You're worse than the doctors in SHIELD's med bay- ah!" Natasha grumbled softly before being scooped up into Bruce's arms. She jolted slightly. Despite the dry comebacks and infamous smirks, she was still very much on edge. "It's okay." Bruce whispered. Her eyelids drooped immediately at the soothing tone of his voice. "I know 'you don't bite'." She purred, nuzzling her head against his chest. Instead of setting her down, he sat in the chair and continued to hold her curled up body close to his. Bruce stroked Natasha's hair and pressed kisses onto her forehead, murmuring his secrets and words of comfort to her sleeping form.


End file.
